Cassidy Morrow: The Only Woman Son
by buffyfan1992
Summary: This is the diary of Cassidy Morrow the daughter of Gemma Teller and Clay Morrow. I want to thank my friend NickyFox13 for editing each one of the chapters before I put them up. I hope you all enjoy my fic.
1. Chapter 1

Diary

Entry 1

FUCK YOU!

Fuck everybody!

Fuck my mom!

Fuck my dad!

Fuck Jax! (He may be my brother and doesn't have as much power over me as my parents but fuck him anyway.)

Fuck Owen! (He may be my boyfriend, and a veteran of Samcro, and probably had nothing to do with this but fuck him, too.)

You need a fucking diary not fucking me. My dad, Clay, ordered me to start a diary. He wants me to get my fucking emotions out some way. I guess he didn't like how I beat on the prospect for no good reason. It's just that I had come back from fucking shooting somebody in the head and Half-Sack hadn't put my tools away right. I mean really man! I was about to fix Ms. Robinson's car when I looked at my toolbox. My FAVORITE wrench was gone. And suddenly all the shit I was feeling came through me and when the prospect said he had done it I well...snapped.

But who can fucking blame me? I'm the best mechanic in the shop that this part of Samcro. I earned the right to freak out about my tools. Owen and Jax had to drag me of him. Half-Sack was pretty messed up from the beating I gave him. After I calmed down, Dad called me into Church. The smug bastard was sitting like a King in his President's chair.

"What in the hell were you doing, Princess?" My dad asked giving me the look he used to give when I was a small kid. Now I'm fucking eighteen. The youngest patched member, but still not a fucking kid.

"He fucking put my wrench with all the other tools. MY tools go in MY toolbox. And my name is Cassidy. DAD," I countered as I sat down next to him.

"I'll call you whatever the fuck I want. I'm not just your fucking dad, I'm your President and you have to do what I say. Putting a wrench in the wrong place maybe warrants you to yell at him or punish him with some bull shit, but not to beat him up…okay?" My father yelled as he pointed a finger in my face.

"Yes, Prez. I'm sorry, you're right... I over-reacted a little bit. It won't happen again. I just go a little overwhelmed after I shot Jose."

My dad dropped his hand on his lap. I sensed he was about to say something that I wasn't going to like at all.

"Cassidy, your mom ... well really I think that you need to write some of these feelings down on paper. You have to deal with a lot of shit that somebody your age doesn't usually handle. I know that you have to put on all of these personas so that other people in our world can respect you. And I'm proud of you for that. I just think you need to start writing this shit down so it doesn't affect you anywhere else but at home," my dad fumbled out. He stood up and went to the cabinets. I fucking couldn't believe when he pulled out a book out.

When my dad handed me the book, I stood up and said, "Fuck this dad. You can order me to do a lot of shitting things, but not to have a diary."

Fuck, I hated that word.

"Yeah, I can sweetheart. You're going to lose control one of these days if you don't write all this stuff down. If you don't do this willingly, I'm going to have your mom watch you do it," Clay threatened.

I put up hands in exasperation and said, "Fine. But don't tell anybody! Not even Jax or Owen."

Clay nodded. "Now get out of here," he ordered.

I got up and walked out. Now after my boyfriend as fallen asleep I'm writing in you fucking diary. My dad told me to write how I feel, so I will now. FUCK THIS!

Next day...

My nephew was born ten weeks early. FUCK THAT ADDICT WHORE!


	2. Chapter 2

Entry # 2

I hate fucking Dr. Tara Knowles!

I hate the fact that she broke my brother's heart eleven years ago!

I hate that she's treating my nephew because know we have to interact with each other a little bit. The way I deal with people I hate or find myself mad at...well...if they're guys, I usually beat them up, threaten them or, if ordered, kill them. But if they are women, I go with the silent treatment. Very unlike my crazy-ass mother (who I love very much) who will make snarky comments, threats and will occasionally beat on chicks who she fucking hates.

Until now, ignoring Tara has worked out pretty well since I don't spend to much time at the hospital and can run away if I see her, but now that she is treating Abel...FUCK.

I saw her last night for the first real time in eleven years. I went with her to see Abel after Jax stormed off to beat some drug selling motherfucker. I didn't know that at the time, but my brother tells me everything. Jax has told me things he would never telling fucking anybody else since I was three years old. That was how old I was when she left. I used to love Tara! She used to help Jax babysit me. Sometimes I would stay over at her house when everybody was busy at the clubhouse. Tara used to read me the coolest books like Narina and Lord of the Rings. She was the only thing I liked that did not have to do with the club. I guess she was part of the club, but you not what I mean. Tara was an old lady, but her whole life didn't rotate around Samcro. She did her schoolwork and she did fucking good. She graduated with all A's even though her boyfriend was the prince of Samcro and her daddy was a mean drunk.

Sometimes I wonder that if Tara hadn't gone away if I still would be as hardcore as I am today. Then I realize fuck yeah I would. I might of actually graduated instead of getting a GED, but nothing would every stop me from fucking stuff up as a "SON". Owen wonders why I'm still so fucking mad.

"I don't get it, Cassidy," Owen would ask me more than once, "why you're still mad at Tara. It happened eleven years ago, get fucking over it."

"Owen, why can't you realize why I'm so fucking mad? She didn't just abandoned my fucking brother. She abandoned a little kid who didn't realize what the fuck was going on."

"But it's no big deal! You've got me, you wonderful boyfriend," he explained with a kiss to my forehead, "and you've got the SONS and…there's really no reason for you to still be so caught up with this Tara chick." I sighed. Owen wouldn't ever understand.

I mean, I asked Jax every fucking night for a least a year where Tara was. All Jax would do was cry, then walk out. He was so fucking messed up then. My mom wouldn't even utter her name. All she would say when I mentioned Tara was "Fucking Bitch." (Now that I think about it, my mom might be the reason I swear so fucking much.) My dad, well, he would say what was done was done, then clam up when I asked more questions. I didn't know what was really going on until I was four and Piney took pity on me.

Piney said, "Little girl, Tara went off to college. She couldn't take any of this shit anymore." I burst into tears. My mom yelled at Piney for saying shit like that to me, then grabbed me. We hugged for like an hour.

My little brain couldn't believe that somebody who we all cared about could just get up and fucking leave us like that. My mom used to be so protective of Tara. They got along great. Well, from what I could see. The club loved and accepted Tara. I know that my brother was in love with Tara. I used to think they were soul mates. Now I just want her to go fucking away.

After I saw little Abel in that toaster thing I well... broke down in tears. I ran into the bathroom to throw up. I just couldn't see how something so fucking small and fragile was going to live.

And I wanted Abel to live! I still fucking do! My brother's heart has already been broken so many times I don't think he could take anymore. Tara walked into the bathroom after me. She started talking. Can you fucking believe it? She had the balls to talk.

"Cas, you okay in there?" She asked concerned.

I couldn't fucking believe she had a nerve to ask me any fucking questions. Who did she think she was to ask these questions now when she couldn't even do that eleven years ago? I sat down on the closed toilet stall for a minute, waiting for her to go the fuck away.

" Cassidy...umm…look, I'm sorry about what is going on with your family right now. Jax doesn't deserve any of this. Abel sure doesn't," Tara went on to say.

I took a big breath. The same thought kept rolling around my head: Don't shoot the nice doctor... don't shoot the nice doctor…

"Can you please say something? You used to have a lot to say when you were three. I remember you used to ramble on and on about Harleys. You had a lot notebook full of doodles of bikes that only a three-year-old could have. You used to be so cute. You know that once, when Jax and I babysat, you announced that you were going to be part of Samcro. Guess that happened." Tara rambled.

I heard the door open and close. I heard my mom's voice talking.

"Cassidy is fine. She doesn't want to fucking talk to you. You don't know this about her because you've been absent from our lives for elven glorious years but…when she's mad at somebody she can't shoot or hit, she just clams right up. Just leave, you're wasting your time trying to get her to speak," my mom's deadly voice explained.

"Fine," Tara said. I heard the hurt in her voice and then she left.

Thank god! I could finally leave. I walked out of that stall. I gave my mom a huge hug.

"Clay needs you to take care of that mafia thing now," she said, after kissing me on the cheek.

I nodded. I walked out of the bathroom with purpose. I needed to kill some assholes. Owen was waiting right outside the bathroom. That's one thing I liked about Owen: underneath his gruff exterior was a guy with a heart of gold. We shared a kiss. A deep, loving kiss. Then we took care of busineess with Tig. I'll tell you about that next entry. Now I have to go because Owen made some pizza. And damn, does Owen make a mean fucking pizza.


	3. Chapter 3

Entry 3

Well I promised to talk about the fucking Mafia deal today so I will. But first I need to explain some fucking rules. Well, my motherfucking rules. See, I'm enforcer. If gangs, the mafia, etc. decide not to pay Samcro for their guns (which is a terrible as fuck idea) they send me in. I went with Owen and one or two of the other guys and gave the fucking idiots some options:

1. They give me the fucking money then and I leave them alone.

Since I'm so fucking nice, they give me the money early in the morning and I fucking leave them alone.

If they don't give me the money right away or early the next morning, I kill two or three of their foot soldiers. If this is the second time I shoot one of the top guns to injure.

If the sons of bitches still don't get the lesson, then well... I kill one or two of their top leaders and kill five of the foot soldiers.

Nobody's pushed me past that point. Thank god for them. The Mafia that we deal with in Charming, they gotta spend a few months of their year in the west coast. They usually need to buy some machine guns from us. Usually, they pay us right away. But this time, they wouldn't pay. Me, Owen and Tig went over to their hideout all polite-like, giving them the damned options a day before Abel came into this fucked up world. Those idiots decided not to heed our warnings. So that night it was killing time.

Happy, he's part of the Tacoma chapter of SOA, came in town. So he decided to join us in Option Number Fuckin' Three for the Mafia that night. He is craziest killer that I know. That motherfucker has a smiley tattooed on his stomach whenever he fucking kills anybody. I love that man. He might be crazier than Tig. Happy meeted us right near a building where some of the Mafia's soldiers were playing poker. Those fucking men love their poker.

I got off my biker and gestured for my fellow brothers to come around me.

" The fucking plan is to spray those fucking fuckers with as many bullets as possible so I could send a loud and goddamn clear message. I'll leave my fucking card on of their bodies," I whispered to the troops. My card is playing cards with the reaper on it while wearing a tiara. Since I'm the fucking queen.

"This'll be perfect." Happy smiled. This guy loved a good kill, like me.

I pointed at my boyfriend,"Owen, you kick the door open. Me, Happy and Tig will follow you. The bullets start blazing the minute that door opens. Okay?" I ordered.

"Yes ma'am," Owen responded with a grin on his face.

Tig and Happy nodded. The smiles on their fucking faces a little more sinister.

I pulled the machine gun out of its holster and the guys followed me up the steps. We were super fucking quiet so we didn't scare those damned motherfuckers off. Owen walked in front of us. With a loud BAM, he had kicked that fucking door down. I love when he does that. It's hotter than hell when he does that.

The minute that door opened, bullets flew faster than the fastest goddamn bird you could think of. Cards went fucking flying all over the place! Players were shot, and cards flew everywhere in a chaotic mess.

Only one guy managed to spit out a coherent sentence: "Why are your fucking doing this?"

"Because you don't know how to pay Samcro right, you assholes," I proudly answered.

I let the bullets fly a little longer than usual, but I cut it of after Happy was the only guy shooting.

I walked up to the fucking idiots, and dropped my calling card on their bleeding faces.

"You're probably thinking: 'why would she leave a fucking calling card on a body?' Well, the goddamn police could know that Cassidy and her brothers killed this fucking dude. I'll fucking tell you, the mafia will get to the body before the police do. And you don't want that, do you?"

No response.

Probably a no, the safest answer.

Victory belonged to, rightfully and yet again, to Samcro.

I was pumped up with adrenaline and I kissed Owen deeply to briefly celebrate.

I texted Jax and Gemma right outside the hospital with a disposable phone of course. Wouldn't want the cops to trace me this way. Also, the fucking calling card doesn't have fingerprints since we wear clothes to make sure there's no identification. To this fucking day the police, FBI, ATF, etc. haven't arrested me for killing anybody because of the perfect system I've laid out.

"I'll meet you guys outside. I just have to call the Prez and tell him the good news. " I suggested…no... I ordered.

Happy gave me a smile and ahigh five, then left. Tig hit my shoulders in brotherly affection before he followed our Tacoma brother. Owen gave me another explosive kiss, which was followed by a bone-crunching hug.

"Love you," I said as he let go. God, he makes me so fucking mushy. If it were any other guy, I'd probably hate it. But Owen was different. I respected that.

" Love you too Cas," He said as he walked out.

I took out my cellphone and dialed my dad's cell phone. He picked up right away.

"Done, sweetheart?" He asked gruffly.

"Done fucking perfectly," I said.

"Good. See you in the morning. Get some rest cause we all had a rough fucking day." Dad told me.

"Yes, dad. Love you," I said.

"Love you too, kid," My dad said.

I hung up the phone and walked out of that fucking house. Have to run my mom is calling me. Love her too.


	4. Chapter 4

Entry # 4

With all the shooting I've been doing recently, I've been thinking of all the first times I have had with guns. Fucking great large powerful guns. The first time I held a gun, the first time I shot a gun, the first time I shot a person, and the first time I fucking killed somebody. All creepy weird things to a regular person, but to me, fucking normal.

The first time I held a gun, I was twelve fucking years old. (I really love the word fuck and I use it a lot. Bite me.) Jax took me on a ride on his motorcycle. I remember pretty damn clearly how much I enjoyed riding on the back of my brother and father's motorcycle back then. Now, the only way I really enjoy riding is when I'm doing it myself at my own fucking speed. Riding will always be the time I feel the most fucking free. Nothing else matters in life but the sound of my engine roaring and the wind in my face.

Well, now that my feelings on motorcycles are spelled out loud and goddam clear, I should probably get back to the story. The one I actually wanted to tell.

Jax and I got off of his motorcycle. My brother took off his helmet and helped me take mine off as well.

"I need some alone time with my only baby sis," I remember him telling me. He had driven far away into this deserted park. Everything that was man-made in the park rusted beyond recognition, but the scenery was fucking amazing. I don't think I've ever seen such thick grass or such tall trees in my entire life.

"You want to feel my gun, Cassidy?" He asked as he took his gun from its holster.

"Mom would freak. She says I'm to young..." I spluttered out. Of course I wanted to hold the fucking gun, but I was afraid to. Mom had stuffed my head with scary stories of kids blowing their heads off.

"The safety is on, kid. I'm not asking Mom's opinion on you handling guns, you know. I'm asking if you wanted to hold a gun?" He asked more forcefully this time. Jax held his gun out to him. I couldn't fucking believe it. And, no, I didn't have a dirty mouth at age twelve. Sometimes it's funnier to think of twelve-year-old me

"Yes, please," I said in the sweetest voice I could manage. I took the gun from my big brother. The gun was freakin' heavy the first time I held it. I had to use both hands to keep a good grip on the gun.

"How does the gun feel?" My brother asked, grinning at the expression on my face.

"Good," I said. Jax, as suddenly as he had asked to let me hold the gun, took it out of my hands. I gave him my best "fuck you" face. He laughed.

Jax put the gun back in his holster. " Next time you're holding a gun, you'll be a prospect." My brother said in his best 'I'm-authority-you-better-listen' voice.

"Yes, sir," I joked. Jax laughed. I lunged at him. We chased each other around the place.

The first time I ever shot a gun was when I was fourteen years old and just starting to prospect. You might think (or not think because your a fucking piece of paper and I have to pretend to be fucking talking to somebody or risk going fucking insane for writing to myself) that fourteen is too fucking young to prospect, which is true normally, but the club wanted me to do everything earlier to prove how loyal and tough I am to the club.

I rode bitch seat with my dad to a old broken down gun store with target practice in the back. The old guy in a ball-cap waved us through the store. My dad handed me the gun the minute we stepped outside.

"This is the second time you've handled a gun, right?" asked my dad gruffly as he watched me position the gun in my hand.

" Yes. How did you know?" I asked. Though I shouldn't of been too surprised. My Dad knows a lot of shit.

"Jax fessed up that he let you hold the gun a few weeks after he did." confessed my father. I shrugged.

"Now you get to shoot it. If you can shoot the bull's eye ten times today, the gun is yours. Do you understand?" My Dad asked and ordered at the same time. (He was good at that.) My father had transformed into the President of my to be club.

"Yes sir." I responded in a serious tone.

"Let me show you how to shoot and put the bullets in properly." He said.

Dad first illustrated how to put bullets in a gun, an actiont I could now do in my sleep. He handed me the gun back and the bullets and had me load the rest into the gun.

"Now, let's started shooting this fucking bad boy," dad said after I showed how good I was at loading bullets.

Dad wrapped his body around mine as he put my hand in position to start shooting bull's eyes.

"Now look straight at your target. Point the gun nice and straight. Take a big breath and gently pull the trigger," dad whispered in my ear.

He held my arms straight, so I took a big breath and gently pulled that trigger. Amazingly enough, on my first try I shot right on target.

"Good girl!" Dad exclaimed.

He had me shoot five targets like that before letting go of my arms and letting me shoot the rest without his help. That fucking gun became mine.

The first time I shot a person was pretty much all Piney's fault. I was fifteen and still a prospect because my special rules said that I had to prospect two years instead of the regular fucking one. I had to help Piney allowed some shit into his house.

How I ended up shooting somebody while unloading a TV, a DVD player and some cables from a truck in still far beyond me.

"Oh shit, little girl." Piney muttered as a black SUV drove up on us as I was unloading my last item: a bunch of wires. I dropped them the minute I saw this large black man exiting the car.

I'm not fucking racist, but a large black man coming out of large SUV with a AK-47 scares the hell out of me. I put my hand on the handle of my gun.

"You are one stupid motherfucker." The big black man said straight at Piney pointing the gun in his face. I pointed my gun at his face really fast.

"What in the fuck is going on?" I shouted looking at both men.

"Who in the hell are you little girl?" screamed/asked the angry big black man.

"She is Cassidy Morrow. Her dad is Samcro's prez and she is prospecting. I wouldn't wan to mess with her. Just chill out, T-Dog." Piney clearly said.

" I don't want to fucking mess with her old man. I want to fuck up you, PINEY. Nobody calls me nigger, rips me of, and lives to tell the tale. And my fucking name is Terrell not T-Dog." Screamed the pissed of Terrell or as Piney who is fucking racist calls me T-Dog.

I could fucking tell that this was not going to go fucking well. I decided that I could either scare this mother fucker away or this fucking angry man was going to blow Piney away.

" Get back into the car and drive of, now. If you don't I'm going to blow your brains out." I ordered.

Terrell turned his pissed of gaze to me. " What the fuck did you just say to me C-girl?" He seethed. Terrell started to stalk toward me.

I shot him in the arm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuck!" He screamed. Terrell had no fucking back up, so he did what he had to. Terrell ran into his car and drove of.

"Bad-ass." laughed Piney.

I gave him a smile back.

"Now fucking bring the wire into my house." He ordered.

I rolled my eyes, then put away my gun.

The first time I actually killed anybody was a month after I was patched in at age sixteen. I was with Tig and Bobby, collecting some money for a payment on some guns. This was before I became a "official" enforcer.

We were in the middle of the hood in Oakland in the back of one of the gangster's houses. Their baby mamma and baby were not home, so they were all alone.

"Where's the money?" asked Bobby with a calm tone in his voice.

"Yeah, Where is our fucking money?" echoed Tig.

"We don't fucking have it yet brother," one of the guys said through gritted teeth. I don't even remember his name.

Tig looked at me. He motioned for me to come closer. I put my hand on my gun not knowing what in the fuck was going to happen. When I was arms length, Tig draped one of his arms around me.

"Babe, which of this guys are you going to shoot?" He asked casually.

The gangsters started to panic. I saw one of them go for their gun. I knew that it was either us or them, so I reached for my fucking gun and shot the man in the face before he did the same to me.

"If you don't have the money the next time we fucking see you...well... you know." Tig said threateningly. Us three sons exited the place like we were royalty while the gangsters looked like little pussies just standing there, cowering.

Well that is fucking all for now. See you next time, I guess.


	5. Chapter 5

Entry # 5

It's fucking messed up what happened to Tristen Oswald! She is only thirteen years fucking old. Tristen didn't deserve to be fucking ...raped. Good thing we took care of that shit. Dad castrated that son-of-a-bitch clown. Oswald was too much of a fucking sissy to take care of his own fucking business. Well, now we have the fucking upper hand on him.

The club is super smart, more than we let on. I now that uppity rich people like Oswald think we're a bunch of white trash bikers, but the club knows how to take care of fucking business. I know how this fucking messed with my parents and Jax's head though. And mine to though I don't care to admit it. They remember me at fucking thirteen going to Fun Town sometimes alone.

Only if my mom was away or to fucking busy to notice that I was gone from the house. My dad had an interesting idea of parenting. As long as I was in Charming then I could wander without an escort. My brother often would fucking disagree and end up following me whereever I went. I love him even though he is a fucking overprotective freak.

He got that from our Mom. When Thomas the middle child died of our family heart issues she become a mother lion. Thomas died two years before I was born. He was only fucking six years old when the heart defect took him. After that she become the most fucking protective mother to Jax, then when I was born I was also put under her protective circle.

Until I was six years old the only time Mom would let me out of her fucking sight was when I went to school. I used to hear her and dad argue about how she wouldn't let me have a play date at somebody's house. Dad threw phrases around like "She's not Thomas."

"Cassidy is fine."

"She had all her heart surgeries already." (I do have the same heart defect as Thomas, my Mom, Jax, Abel and had a surgery when I was a month old and one I was two years old),

"Give Cassidy some room to breathe", and my fucking favorite

"For fucking fuck's sakes leave that poor girl alone." Though she did not stop being fucking overprotective of my when I passed six. She is till the same fucking mother bear for me and Jax now that we're both adults.

Jax has been one of my protectors since I was a baby. He would only let me slowly enter the world of a fucking patch member of Samcro with his or Dad's help. Jax was my sponsor when I was a fucking prospect. My Dad and him decided I was ready to be patched in when I was sixteen and they have been there every fucking step of the way.

I love my family. And I love my boyfriend. Owen is the only person who can handle my fucking bullshit other than my blood family and my club family. Though of course he is fucking part of that family as well. After we caught that fucking clown who raped the little girl, Owen and I had a chat.

I was relaxing on our bed, thinking about all the messed up things in the world when Owen entered the room eating a bag full of avocado chips. He loves those fucking things.

"What's up, babe?" Owen asked me as he sat down on the bed.

"Fucking nothing." I grumbled looking away at his handsome Marine face with his soulful blue eyes.

"Fucking something is going on. What's got you in such a shit mood? Is it the rape? Because we dealt with that shit?" Owen demanded. He always swears when he wants to get through to me. It really fucking works, no matter how weird it sounds.

"Just fucking thinking about how messed up the world is for a innocent thirteen year old to be raped in a place where she used to have a fun. I used to go to Fun Town all the time when I was a fucking kid. Sometimes all by myself." I rambled. Owen put his hand up before I continued.

Owen sat down next to me and wrapped his warms strong arms around me.

"I love you, Cas. Nothing happened to you when you were small, so stop fucking thinking about that shit. And we took care of the fucking clown so he won't ever mess with any more kids. Seriously, Samcro is here in this town to take care of all the shit that happen outside the town borders. Drugs and shit involved in that never hit these walls because of that," Own declared.

"Plus your brain will explode if you keep on thinking so fucking hard. I like your brain where it is…inside your head " He teased. I let a smile crack.

"Love you too babe. Thanks for the fucking awesome pep talk." I smiled.

Then I fucking kissed him hard on the mouth. He pulled me in closer than I thought was fucking possible. I grasped the back of his head as I deepened the kiss. Owen started pulling of my cut as I reached for his...Well you can imagine what that fucking lead to. I'm not writing when of those girly romantic novels. No graphic sex scenes here. You can imagine that shit now, cause I goddamn refuse to spell it out for you, diary.

Well…not today.

I'm not in the fucking mood.

After the sex we laid naked and tangled up with each other. I kissed him softly on the lips. Owen kissed me on my neck. Then my fucking phone rang, ruining a wonderful moment. One of my pre-paid ones. I sighed.

Well, shit, I totally wanted this to happen.

"Fuck." Owen snapped. I grabbed the phone and Owen rolled away from me.

I put the phone to my ear and growled, "What?"

"Relax, chica." Jose smoothly answered. Jose is an officer in one of the local gangs in Lodi.

He said, "I just wanted to let you know that I may need to have a extra day to pay you the dinero."

I sat right up. Fuck. I liked Jose. I don't want to have to fucking shoot him. I hope to God that he wasn't bullshitting me.

"I'm giving you the fucking guns two days from now! Why are you only telling me this shit now." I barked.

I felt Owen's hands rubbing my back. I have such a great fucking guy.

"Sorry, mija. Didn't know there was a issue until right now. I'll have you the money bright in early the day after the shipment is delivered. I swear on my mother's grave." He insisted.

" Okay, Jose. I'm fucking trusting you. If you fucking cross me, though...Well you know what'll happen." I warned.

"Sí." He sighed.

"Adios." He added.

"Goodbye." I said before hanging up the phone.

Fuck.

My phone just rang.

It's my Dad; it's probably real important Samcro business. Talk to you fucking next time.


	6. Chapter 6

Entry # 6

My brother just told me that he found a manuscript that his father J.T. typed up before he died. The Life and Death of Sam Crow: How the Sons of Anarchy Lost Their Way is the title. I don't know if I SOA has lost its fucking way, but what Jax told me John Teller himself might of.

God, I have such conflicting feelings about JT. I mean from what people have told me that he raised me for a f year before he died. Mom fucking told me that JT knew that I wasn't his, but he didn't give a shit. He loved me and wanted me to be his fucking daughter. Jax told me that both him and my Dad were in the room when I was born.

Some nights, I was with my Dad and other nights, I was with my "proper" family. My Dad always says with all this guilt on his fuckin that he was almost relieved when JT was born. It meant that he could be my real goddamn dad.

The club never mentioned anything about my weird birth or the fact that I had two fucking fathers for a year. But they do go on about what a fucking great man JT was. The ones that were around to know him, at least. Of fucking course they wouldn't say a bad thing about the man. Jax thinks of him as some big fucking hero. I don't know what to think. On one hand, I love that JT wanted to be my Dad even though I was clear evidence that my Mom was cheating on me.

He invented the club along with Piney so he is a pretty big hero in my books. Plus, he helped raise my pretty awesome big brother. So I guess he can't be that bad. On the other hand, he kept me mostly away from my real Dad when he was alive. And my Dad is the President now, so why should he not be a hero in my book? He got us to this point of prosperity after JT too. Plus I feel like a traitor to Dad for having any kind of love toward JT.

Well, anyway Jax told me that he wanted me to read the manuscript after he was done, so I would see what he's fucking talking about. Jax keeps on talking about making the club legit.

"I've got so many ideas. Sometimes I wonder if there's enough time," Jax'd mutter under his breath. I can see that he's really fuckin' serious because he keeps on trying to talk about more legal and safe ways to do things. Like the way he had us use already dead bodies to make our point to the Mayans and Nords. Or how he questioned Dad about getting the fucking warehouse built.

I don't know if I'm going to agree with what JT wrote, but I owe it to my brother to read the damn stupid thing. I just want everything to stay clean. I think that if Jax keeps on fucking pushing Dad that things will get messy quick.

"Don't you dare tell a soul about this manuscript, you got it?" He practically snarled. It meant a lot to him, I could just tell by the way he said that.

"I never will, I promise!" The one thing that Jax had was my fucking loyalty. I know that one day, Jax will be the president and I'll be the fucking V.P. When Dad's heads are gone from the fucking arthritis that sometimes makes it so that he needs somebody's fucking help to button up his T-Shirts.

I bet you're wondering why I'm not thinking about when I'm President. Well first of all, no matter what'll happen, Jax's gonna be President for a long time. It's probably most likely that I'll never really have a chance to be President for that long. Secondly, I needed to agree to some rules before I was even allowed to fucking prospect at age fourteen and one of the rules was I could only go as high up as V.P.

I also bet you're wondering why on fucking earth I would sign such a fucking document that had rules like "can't be President of the Club", but I was (and still fucking am) desperate to be a Son. I remember the day that my father called me into the Meeting room.

I was thirteen, nervous as hell, but above all, happy to know that I was going to be part of the Sam Crow family. As I stood outside the door of the Meeting Room, I noticed that one of the crow-eaters was cleaning the tables. That's not what was so weird about my observation, though. The bitch crow-eater had the balls to laugh at me when she saw me pace back and forth. I flipped her the finger. I had started to pick up my dirty habits at that early age.

The doors swung open. Dad popped his head out of the door.

"You can come in now, Cas." He ordered.

I quickly ran into the door as Dad held the door open. Jax had just been made V.P. a few days before so he was sitting next to Dad's chair. My Dad made his way back to his chair as I stood in utter excitement near the fucking door. Jax motioned me to come closer.

"Come stand near, Clay. Don't be shy sis," teased Jax.

I walked over right between my Dad and Tig. Tig was one crazy motherfucker like Happy.

"Cassidy, let's cut to the chase. We have drafted some rules to allow you to become a official Son in our charter. Your going to have to sign a paper that has these rules written down before you even prospect. Do you fucking understand?" explained and asked Dad.

"Yes, sir." I bravely answered looking my Dad straight in his eyes.

"Read the rules." ordered my Dad not breaking eye contact.

My brother picked up a piece of paper. All eyes were on him the minute he started reading.

"Number one. Cassidy Morrow will start prospecting when she is fourteen to prove that she is tough enough to be a son. Number two. She will have to prospect for a minimum of two years instead of the normal one year. Number three. If she does make the cut at age sixteen, then she will get a G.E.D. Number four. Cassidy will never be allowed to be higher than the Vice President of Samcro. Number five. She cannot transfer to another charter of the Sons. Number six. Cassidy is not allowed to patch out of Samcro. Number seven. No other women after her will be allowed to join Samcro. Number eight. Cassidy will not be allowed to date anybody outside of SOA. Number nine. She will not be allowed to marry anybody that is not part of this charter. Number ten. Cassidy must wear her cut over her wedding dress or any other dress she must wear in any fancy event. Number eleven. She does not need to get a Crow tattoo when she seriously dates another Son, but she must get an image of the Old Lady crow on her body or any kind of jewelry one she marries. Last rule. The man who marries her must have a Old Lady tattoo with a tiara over it to show he is with the Princess of Samcro." My brother finished with a grin on his face.

I won't lie, (not like I've ever lied to you, diary) I wanted to punch that grin of his face.

"We added that last rule because we want the guy who marries you to be a brave, strong mother fucker," joked Bobby.

The room got quiet for a minute.

Jax handed the rules to my Dad. Then he handed the rules to me.

"Cassidy, you can start prospecting next year if you sign these rules. But if you don't, you can forget about being a Son. If you want to, you can still be a mechanic at the auto shop, but that's about it. Nobody'll think less of you if you don't sign, Princess." Dad told me.

I looked at the paper. Some of these rules are a little...no, a lot messed up. But I would of done anything to become a Son, so I picked up a pen that was near my Dad... and signed the damn document.

The minute I was done, the whole room started to cheer. I got a hug from every single member. I was so fucking happy.

Right after I was kicked out of the room I went up to the croweater that I had fingered.

"Could you give me a tattoo?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Sure," Susie a.k.a. Crow-Eater muttered.

A few minutes latter she was tattooing the words Princess in pink on my arm.


	7. Chapter 7

Entry # 7

Today, I got fucking shot in the side by some fucking gangsters who didn't want to fucking give me my money. Thankfully the bullet barely hit anything because that asshole is a really bad fucking shot, but I still have to rest at home for two weeks before I can fucking ride again. I'm fucking going to get those motherfuckers.

Jax was there with Tig and Juice when the fucking gangster shot him. They got me out of there really fucking fast. Owen had to put in some hours at the auto shop so he couldn't fucking come with me. He was fucking pissed when he realized that I got shot.

He rode off to the hospital with my Mom and Dad the minute he heard. When I woke up from surgery, his face was looming over mine.

"You fucking scared me, Cassidy." He whispered. I've never seen Owen so fucking scared out before.

"Sorry, babe. I'm fine. See?" I told Owen as I pulled up my ugly gown to show the small surgical scare on my side.

Owen grimaced. He pulled the gown down before taking my hand.

"Your parents and Jax are talking to Tara and another doctor about your surgery." Owen informed. I squeezed his hand. I knew this was fucking hard on him. Owen has seen a lot of death of his fellow soldiers as a Marine and a Son. He can barely take them dying or being injured. I the love of his life. So you can imagine that Owen can't take me being shot.

"How about the rest of Samcro?" I asked. No way they weren't fucking here.

"They're waiting outside until I get an to fucking tell you something." He gruffly murmured.

Owen took out a black rosary from his pockets and gave it to me. I examined the religious necklace. The cross that was connected to the rosary was a muted red and the beads were dark brown. I was wondering why in the fuck would Owen have it. Although he was raised Catholic, he only went to church when his mother forced him to.

"When I was about five, I broke my arm when I was playing behind Mom's back. Without a second thought, Mom freaked out. Mom, being the worrier and the good Catholic she was, scurried around the entire Earth trying to find some Catholic object that would keep me safe. She found this rosary that was being sold by this Irish priest. The priest said wrote that the rosary kept his parish safe throughout all the problems that happened in his small Irish village. Like one time all the folks in the village and the area surrounding it got sick expect for the people who attended his church all the time. Mom brought me the rosary and gave it to me. She made me swear to always carry it. So far, I've been through one tour of Iraq and a few years in the Sons and haven't even gotten grazed by a bullet." He informed me.

"That's super...ah fucking great Owen, but why are you telling me this story now?" I asked.

"I want you to carry the rosary now." Owen said.

Fuck!

No way was going to carry that! I'm not much of a religious person and I didn't want to carry something that I didn't believe in.

I then realized that there were going to be other times when Owen and I were going to be put on different assignments. So I decided that it was the best to carry this rosary so Owen doesn't go fucking crazy with worry whenever something happens.

"I will Owen, don't worry," I promised. "But what about your fucking safety?"

"You're my good luck charm." Owen smiled.

"You're so fucking cheesy." I teased. Owen kissed me on the lips.

The minute I uttered those words the whole club entered my room. My brother was the first to give me a big hug. I kissed him on the cheeks.

"You going to be okay, sis? I'd be so mad if you got hurt," Jax joked.

"I'm fine," I replied. Jax gave me one last squeeze before my Mom moved in for her fucking hug and kiss.

"You're not allowed to get fucking shot again, you hear me?" Mom almost screamed as she squeezed and kissed me.

"Got it." I confirmed.

My Dad gave me a big kiss on the top of head as my Mom kept on holding me.

"Let her go, Gemma. We all need a hug from the fucking princess," Bobby declared.

Gemma rolled her eyes, but she let go. For the next half hour, I got hugs and loving teasing from the guys. We joked around until the hospital staff kicked everybody out. Owen refused to leave, though. He stayed the fucking night with me. And the next morning Jax, Mom, and Dad were there with breakfast. I'm now at home fucking resting. The only thing new I have to report is that I think Jax and Tara are going to reconnect any fucking minute.


	8. Chapter 8

Entry # 8

I came back in just in time to see our fucking necks on the line again. Some fucking employees of the Water and Power Board dug up three skeletons near Highway fucking 33. Dad told us that the skeletons were Mayans from the war in 1991, a year before I was fucking born. We can't let anybody identify those bodies because are the members who were around back in the day. Jail was in our (and anyone else associated with us) future if the police identified the bodies and related it back to us.

I offered to go get the bodies, but I was needed to do something fucking else that night. Some stupid fucking gang needed a little wake up call about the rules of society. You know how when you fucking buy guns you need to give some fucking money in return. The gang got the message loud and fucking clear. The very next morning one of their soldiers delivered some fucking money to our doorstep.

Jax, Clay and Tig found out that one of the bodies was fucking Lowell Sr. I never got to meet the man since he went missing during the 1991 war. But I heard he was a hell of a mechanic. He was the only person that J.T. trusted to fix his fucking bike. Well anyway, Dad explained that the Mayans killed Lowell Sr. so I guess that's that. It's to fucking bad that they had to bury him with those fucking Mayans. Their shit followed him.

He was fucking loyal to the club. So loyal that Clay helped raise Lowell, Jr. who now works at the TM as a mechanic. He is almost as good as his old man. Sometimes we race to see who can fix cars the fastest. Half the time he fucking wins and the other half I win. I'm the fucking mechanic Queen. The only really terrible with Jr. was that he's a fucking junkie. Dad had to send him to fucking rehab this week. Poor kid. Dad told me that the police roughed him up a little bit by trying to blame his father's death on Samcro. Can you imagine their fucking balls? Who in the goddamn hell would do something like that?

On another note, I'm starting to fucking warm up to Tara. Jax just told me that fucking ATF Agent Kohn who has been fucking bothering us is stalking her. They used to date in Chicago, but when Kohn started getting violent, she fucking broke it off. Since then Kohn has been sending her creepy flowers and falling her around. Tara had to get a fucking restraining order against that asshole.

That's part of the reason why Tara moved back. Though she didn't think the fucking ATF was going to follow her to Charming. Jax was pretty fucking furious at Kohn. And I could totally understand why. He found out about the whole fucking story because Kohn followed him and Tara to her house. Jax gave him a really good fucking warning to stay away from the good doctor.

Jax came to talk to me at the clubhouse right after he drove out of Tara's home. Jax explained the whole fucking thing between Kohn and Tara, then he begged me to go easy on her.

"Cassidy, I know that Tara put our fucking family through a lot, but could you start talking to her again?" Jax pleaded. He leaned over the table in the bar area.

"I don't fucking know if I'm ready to talk to her Jax. I'm still fucking mad. I don't want to say something fucking cruel. Tara's gone through enough. You know Mom," I sighed.

"Please, give her a chance. Tara went through a lot when she left me too. I know that she never stopped loving me. And Tara was forced to start over in San Diego without the support of my family like had when she left him. Now, Tara's back and we get the chance to support her. Tara really needs a friend who isn't me right now," Jax begged.

Fuck, I thought. Whenever my fucking brother begs, I crumble. Well, I used to have a fucking great friendship with Tara. I was three, but odds are we would will still be good friends now.

"Okay, bro. I'll talk to her, but I'm not fucking promising anything." I state.

Jax gives me such a big fucking smile that I couldn't help punching him in the shoulder.

"Ow! " He jokingly cried out before getting up.

Tig walked up to me.

"Time to take care of some fucking shit." Tig ordered, motioning me to follow him.

I shrugged and got up. Me, Tig, Owen and Bobby had to fucking talk to forty-niners about when they wanted their next gun sale. I'll skip that part because it was pretty fucking boring. There was no fucking yelling, shooting or money being exchanged. There was only a bunch of agreeing when to deliver the guns and how much money to buy since we were increasing his regular order.

I went by Tara's house after everything was fucking over and done with. The faster I could get the "talking" over with, the happier I'd be.

I knocked on her fucking door. Two minutes fucking passed by before she opened the door.

"Oh, hi Cas." She greeted me looking very fucking confused.

"How are you doing?" I asked her looking down at my fucking feet.

"Jax told you about Kohn didn't he. Thats why your here?" Tara pressed me.

"Yep," I answered, still not really sure why I was even fucking here. I could of waited a little bit fucking longer before talking to Tara.

"I don't really know what to say. I know you're mad a me for leaving, but it wasn't you..." Tara started.

For the minute I saw fucking red. But before I really blew a casket I took a big fucking breath.

"Fuck that, Tara. You left all of us. Me, Jax, Mom, Dad and whole fucking club. You didn't want to fucking deal with the life style. You thought we were beneath. YOU wanted to take Jax away from us. Fuck! I want to be your friend, but I don't know fucking how." I rambled.

Tara's eyes watered, then she pulled me into a hug.

"How about we start with drinking some coffee?" Tara asked.

I shrug into her arms. She let go, and then motioned for me to come inside. I followed.

We talked for about a hour before I returned to the clubhouse. I'm fucking happy that Tara and Jax are getting back together soon.


	9. Chapter 9

Entry # 9

Fuck!

…I seem to start a lot of my journal entries like that. You know, saying fuck. Probably because all lot of the shit that's been going on lately is fuck worthy.

I had a fucking crazy night! I was waiting for my brother to come to get the medical supplies at the clubhouse when my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and saw it was Jax. Owen looked down at my phone.

"You need me to get Clay to tell him that Jax's calling?" asked Owen, pointing at my Dad who was at the bar, drinking a large beer. I shook my head.

"Nah. I'll just talk to him. If I think there's anything to tell, I'll tell." I answered with a shrug. I flipped open my phone as I headed toward my room in the apartments. Owen wanted to follow, but I shook my head. I couldn't let him come. He stopped following me. I could tell he was pretty fucking hurt that I wanted to speak with Jax alone. I gave him an apologetic smile as I put the phone to my ear. I didn't know what Jax was going to say and we have a lot of secrets between so I like to have our phone calls in private.

"What's going on?" I asked my brother as I shut the door of my room in the apartments. The minute I patched in, I moved into that fucking room and didn't move out until I got a house with Owen. I loved that fucking room! There were a lot of great fucking pictures of my custom bikes in there. Good times, man, good times.

"Tara." He gasped. Then I got fucking worried.

"What happened with Tara?" I quietly asked. I was w orried that Kohn had fucking raped or killed her or both or something even more scary that I couldn't bring myself to imagine.

"Kohn broke into her house. He almost raped her, but...she shot him in the stomach. She called me afterward," Jax sputtered out. I sighed. Thank fucking god. At least she was alive.

"Then what the hell happened?" I prompted Jax.

"I came over as fast as fucking possible, then... Kohn said some shit about Tara, so I shot him. He's dead," Jax calmly explained. Knowing Jax and Tara (well sort of). I knew what happened next.

"Then you slept with her," I stated, waiting for his confirmation.

"Yep," He confirmed, "Tara just fell asleep. Tonight took a lot out of her."

"I bet." I joked, trying to ease the tension. I was feeling a lot lighter knowing that my brother and my future sister-in-law were fine.

"I'm going to stay with her until morning then I'm going to bury the body." Jax let me know, "Sorry about not bringing the supplies right away, but I'll get them to the club house after Kohn's dealt with."

I nodded. "Okay, bro. Mom and Dad are going to be pretty fucking mad at you," I warned.

"Yes they will be," He echoed.

"Need my help getting rid of the body?" I asked. I'm always willing to whatever's fucking possible for my family.

"No. I can do that alone. I just needed to let somebody know. Fuck. I needed to let you know. Just stay at the clubhouse. And don't..." Jax ordered.

"Tell anybody. I know the fucking drill, Jax." I completed his sentence for him. He seemed relieved that he didn't have to finish his sentence, and continued with: "Get back as soon as possible the charter Presidents and Vice Presidents are heading in. You better be at that fucking meeting."

"I know, sis. Sorry. See you soon" Jax apologized.

"Whatever, bro. See you later." I said before hanging up. "See you soon" is Jax's code for saying "I love you". And " See you later" is my code for "I love you too". We aren't all fucking mushy like some siblings.

Though I do say the words I love you to my family and friends as well. Just not all the fucking time I'd look weak if I said it too much. Just cause I'm a woman doesn't mean I gotta be all mushy and shit.

On top of all the Jax/ Tara shit and the Nords/ Mayans trying to kill Dad, I have another fucking problem.

Mario, who is part of the Mob, decided to make my fucking week by... drum roll, folks... only giving us half our payment. His man, Tony gave us the other half in really good fake currency the day that all the shit blew up with the Mayans and Nords. Bobby saw the currency was bad before he divvied up the cash, thank fucking god, but now I have to fucking deal with it.

Should I give him a special punishment for not only not giving me all my fucking money, but lying to me about it or should I just give him the normal "You've got a few different options" speech?

Owen said, "Just give him your regular spiel. You can kill or wound a couple of extra guys if you need to."

Jax's opinion was, "Think of something extra fucking special, Cassidy. These guys tried to pull a big one on us. Mario thinks he is so fucking special because he lives in a mansion. Show him different."

Dad thought, "Whatever you want sweetheart," which wasn't not fucking helpful to me at all whatsoever. Thanks a lot for the help, Dad!

Mom told me, "Just get the rest of the money, baby." What did she think I'd do, let them fucking keep the money? Like hell I would

I just have to make my move today!

I need to go somewhere where I'm alone so I can mull some ideas in my head. I'm thinking I'll shoot more people than normal or add some kind of fucking price to their next order. Tell you how it goes.


	10. Chapter 10

Entry # 10

The Mario "problem" was fixed in a fucking brilliant way if I say so myself. I put together my crew. You know, the people who I think would be the most suitable to do the fucking job. I picked Owen because well, he's Owen, Tig because he is a crazy motherfucker, Bobby because he's the most level-headed person in the crew and wouldn't let me loose my temper, and lastly, Chibbs because he's a fucking crazy man when you need him to be.

I went over to fucking Mario's "restaurant" with my men. I say "restaurant" in the loosest of terms because Mario doesn't own the damn thing, he just hangs out their all the time. It's his fucking cousin's place. I was sorry to fucking take care of business in a cousin's restaurant, but the guy doesn't hang anywhere that's actually fucking his. Lazy fuck.

I hate people who don't fucking work at all. I mean I fix cars and build custom bikes at least two days a fucking week. Mario's fake job is in construction! I've never seen the lazy fuck lift a fucking hammer.

Mario greeted us with all these kisses and fucking hugs. What a try-hard asshole.

"How ya doing Cassidy?" asked Mario as he finally let go of me.

I shrugged. "Pretty good. You know how things are," I commented.

"Sit. Sit. Aldo, fetch the lady and gentlemen some wine and pasta," commanded Mario both towards us and Aldo the waiter. We sat at an empty table and Aldo ran off to get us some food and drinks.

" What can I do to help you?" He asked, leaning toward me. I could tell he was fucking looking me over. I hate that fucking shit. I want to be taken fucking seriously, not looked over like I am some kind of Crow Eater.

"You can give us our money," answered Bobby. I flashed Mario a smile. Mario's face went ashen fucking white. He knew that he was in some serious shit.

"But I..." muttered Mario. Aldo and another young man came out and poured us some white and put on some really good pasta.

"I wouldn't try to deny it, Mario buddy. Bobby can tell fake currency from the real thing. We aren't fucking idiots like you seem to think we are." Tig said with a really creepy smile on his face.

"Yeah, we don't like to be treated like idiots," Chibbs said with his cool sounding Scottish accent. I love that fucking man.

"We hate that a lot." growled Owen as he gulped down some red wine.

Mario's eyes went wide. Some of his guys who were sitting near us stood up. I went to my fucking gun. Mario put his hands up.

"Cassidy, Cassidy. I swear on my life that I didn't ... I didn't…!" rambled Mario. The fucking idiot.

"Tell your guys to sit the fuck down." I ordered, then took a bite of the pasta. The sauce was to fucking die for.

Mario turned around and said, "Si metta a sedere." They all sat down. The shoot out was fucking diverted.

"Now, Mario I don't want to cause any fucking trouble, but I will if you don't give me the rest of the fucking money. " I told him.

Mario nodded. "Go on." He sighed.

"If you give me money today, then nobody has to get hurt. But if you dick me the fuck around then some people will get really, really hurt. Maybe even fucking today. I can promise you one thing: if I don't get the money by fucking tonight then well...you might have some dead soldiers on your hands." I finished off. The rest of the guys and I lifted up our cuts to show off all the guns we were carrying.

Mario stood up. " Give me a few minutes." He responded. The mob captain walked over to his table and started whispering to his soldiers.

I kept on eating my food. That fucking coward was going to pay me the fucking money. My job now was to look like I was the most relaxed woman on the fucking planet. Owen was about to open his mouth, but I pointed at his food and gave him a look that yelled, "Just eat your food."

Us Sons just sat and ate our wonderful lunch. Aldo was passing by and I grabbed his arm.

"Could you bring me a glass of water?" I requested. Aldo nodded and went to get me water.

"How long should we wait?" asked Tig, holding his gun as he ate his food.

"Don't get trigger happy yet, Tigger. We'll give him a half-hour before we go back to the club house, then we'll give him about three hours before we after his men." I told him as regally as possible.

I'm the fucking Princess of the Sons after all. Tig nodded. Mario got back to us after about twenty minutes of waiting.

Mario handed a suitcase to me, which I felt just in case something went wrong. It felt like it was full of my fucking money. I was fucking pleased. I'd rather we get our money cleanly then have to go on a fucking rummage. Though I do enjoying a fucking rummage, I don't like having to work twice as hard if I don't have to.

I handed the case over to Bobby so he could count the money and make sure that this time it is fucking real.

Bobby opened the bag and did his task as fast as he could. He gave me the thumbs up.

"The money is real, Cas." Bobby swore.

"Good enough for me. Goodbye, Mario see you next time." I said then walked out of that place. My troops followed me out.

Fuck!

Can't tell you anymore, Jax is calling for me.


	11. Chapter 11

Entry # 11

Agent Stahl was a giant fucking asshole. I mean fuck pressing the "women" of fucking Samcro. And not all the old ladies only the ones that she has something fucking on. She fucking pressed Donna, who has enough shit on her plate. Plus she doesn't know fuck about the club since she has made her feelings known about the club. Cherry isn't even really fucking old lady yet since Half Sack's a prospect. Besides, bullying a woman because she escaped from a abusive marriage is fucked up. And well ... Tara is my friend and I don't like when people fuck with my friends.

She also did something that I was really fucking surprised at. Stahl fucking interviewed me!

I was sitting on the picnic bench outside eating a cheese sandwich for lunch when that bitch walked up to me.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" asked Agent Stahl, sitting down right next to me. I looked up at her really fucking confused. I mean I' R.

"You do know that I'm not a old lady, right? And I really don't have anything to lose?" I snapped. She just fucking laughed. I really think Stahl is fucking insane.

"Yes. You're the only female member of Samcro. Really, really impressive I must say," Stahl told me. This bitch is totally trying to play me I thought. She passed me a list of my arrests and my one conviction.

"I see that you have been arrested four times. Two of those times for assault, both that were dropped even before you were booked. One time that was ... public indecency in Washington State. When you were about seventeen. Um... must have something to do with that hunky boyfriend of yours. And yes that last one is all about possessing illegal firearms. A lot of them, I see. That was the arrest that landed you six months in Prison. Right?" continued Stahl.

So, what I thought. I shrugged. "Yep. I spent six months in prison. But what's your fucking point?" I growled. I don't like talking to feds.

"You were seventeen years old then. You could have gotten twenty-five to life. The case was pretty cut and dry. You were caught red-handed with twenty loaded firearms. You were luck that the judge decided to go easy on you because you were underage." the agent reported.

"Again, your point?" I asked.

"My point is you have put up with a lot to be part of Samcro." shrugged Stahl. Four arrests? And only six months? Is this woman fucking shitting me?

"Four arrests are nothing. And I can do six months in my sleep. I'm going to go back to work," I said as I got up.

"Sure, but that was time you could of spent being a regular kid. Time that you brother in the club got. I checked the rest of the guys' records. None of them got arrested for major shit like this until they were at least eighteen. The club makes you start early to prove that you're tough enough? I understand, ATF isn't exactly a women's world either," rambled Stahl.

I just stared at her.

"I've heard that their are a list of rules that you had to agree on for you to join the club. The rumor is that you actually had to sign a piece of paper, which I don't believe the male members had to do. Why would you put up with a club that makes you jump through extra hoops just because of your gender? I bet you're tougher that half those men," Stahl stated.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I flatly stated. My eyes must of given something away because she smirked.

"I was right. Wow, there is a list. I wish I could get hold of that thing. What did you have to sleep with all the members?" Stahl joked.

I fucking lost it. I couldn't believe she would even consider that they would ask me to whore my self out or that I would agree to such fucking degrading terms. I have a lot of fucking pride. I saw red. The next thing I fucking remember was Owen and my brother holding me back.

Stahl was fucking black and blue. She was trembling.

"You...You..." She mumbled. I think Stahl was in fucking shock. Fuck! I shouldn't have done that I thought.

"I'm not a fucking slut!" I shouted while the blood rushed though my ears.

"Shut up, kid." My brother ordered. I started breathing evenly, knowing that I needed to calm the fuck down.

Stahl stood up. She staggered a few times. She looked me dead in the eye.

"I could arrest you, right now." Stahl wheezed.

I turned to both Jax and Owen. "I'm not going to hit anybody. Could you let go?" I requested. They did.

I walked right up to her face. She flinched. I hate myself for this, but I felt a little bit of joy from it.

"Yes, I know. But you're not." I seethed.

"Why not?" Stahl whispered.

"Because you went to far. And you know it. We are too similar for you to arrest me." I calmly stated.

She glared at me, but walked away.

Owen hugged me to him. "Your fucking insane, Cas." He smiled.

That I am.


	12. Chapter 12

Entry # 12

Owen and I had fucking kids talk! Don't get me wrong I want kids. As strange as that may sound. I want to hold them in my arms and rock them to sleep. I want to make lunches and tuck them in.

What I don't want is to be off a bike for nine months or more! I would literally go insane if I couldn't ride my Dyna. I really fucking would. And eventually I wouldn't be allowed to work at the auto-shop, so I would go fucking crazy. My thinking about having children as always been wait until I'm around thirty then plop one perfect child and then I'll be done.

Owen decided to debate me on this issue, which was fucking annoying.

"I was wondering if we could talk." smoothly asked Owen as I was tweaking an engine of a car at TM.

"About what?" I countered. Fuck, I thought this is going to be one of Owen's tough talks. Whenever Owen wants to talk about something that could be potentially controversial he says something like can we talk.

"Babies. Our babies." Owen blurted out. I turned swiftly around.

"Well, I only want one baby." I stated.

"Oh, okay. I'm cool with that." He answered. Foolishly thinking the "talk" was fucking finished I turned around to continue fixing the car. It was a blue PT Cruiser. Really awesome fucking cage.

"Want to start now?" asked Owen. I fucking dropped my tools. God damn it!

" Fuck…What?" I shouted turning around to face my fucking old man.

"Yeah. We're young and healthy. Both of us have a pretty steady income from the club. Why wait any longer?" Owen reasonably said.

"Well, first of all we aren't married..." I stuttered trying to get my words out.

"Well, then why don't we get married now?" Owen shrugged. Was he fucking stupid or what?

"No. I'll say yes after we have dated at least another year and you ask properly. But the main reason I don't want a baby yet is because I have always planned to have a baby when I'm fucking thirty. I'm not ready to be off my motorcycle for you know fucking nine months." I rambled a bit.

"Will you really be ready when your thirty?" spat out Owen. Why is he so fucking angry, I thought.

"No, but that'll be when I do it. Why are you being so fucking hostile?" I asked feeling a little heated.

I took some big breaths because I know I can snap if I don't stay calm. I really really don't like being pushed with personal issues that have to do with my own body.

"And why in fucking hell do you want babies now?" I softly asked him trying to keep my voice level.

"Because…because…my Mom...wants grandchildren before she dies. Or at least know one is coming. She believes that she is going to die next year," Owen told me.

Owen's mom, Maggie, was a sweet woman, but the most superstitious woman I've ever fucking met. She's turning sixty next year, which isn't the weirdest thing. Both her mom and her grandma died when they were sixty, so she believed that she's gonna die at that age, too, even though her mom died from a car accident and her grandma died of cancer. Cancer she had been fighting for four years. The two aren't even fucking related!

"We can't play into your mother's whimsy. Neither one of us are fucking ready for children. We aren't even ready to get married. You're going to have to tell your mother that she'll have to wait to have grandchildren," I told Owen, grabbing onto his hands.

He nodded. Owen pulled me into a big hug and our mini fight was forgotten until...

The phone rang in the middle of the fucking night a few days later. Owen groped for the phone.

"Get it," I urged, just wanting the sound to fucking stop.

"Hello?" Owen croaked as he flipped the phone open.

I fell back to sleep knowing that we were going to have to deal with some major shit in the morning. Opie may of fucking turned on us.

"Mom! We aren't gonna have children yet!" Owen screamed.

That woke me the fuck up. I opened my eyes in time to see him throw the phone across the room.

"Maggie was displeased." I muttered half asleep.

Owen wiped his face.

"Yeah. Can we just make a baby to shut her up?" Owen smiled.

I shook my head.

"Nope. Go to bed." I ordered giving him a kiss before drifting back to sleep.


End file.
